chievements. They will talk. They brag in
their cups and strut and ogle when they're sober.

_Hester._ I'll warn him of thee.

_Roger._ Thou wilt do nothing of the kind. But come, Hester, man and
wife ought not to quarrel. Let us set a good example to the world in
peace if not in chastity. Sit you here and listen to me.

_Hester._ Well?

_Roger._ Hester, I loved thee when thou wast a babe,
A prattling child no taller than my knee,
A pretty little innocent, a tot
That wavered in its walk and won my heart
By tender trustfulness. Thou'dt leave thy father,
Mother, all, to nestle in these arms
The whiles I told some worn out fairy tale,
Or sang of Robin Hood.
That was before thy mind did take its shape,
And subsequent events have blotted out
All memories of thy babyhood.

_Hester._ Nay, but I do recall, as in a haze,
Some of the incidents of infancy.

_Roger._ Perhaps. Hester, thou wast the dearest child
That ever blest fond parents, unfolding sweet
Thy mother's beauties and thy father's strength.
And canst thou now remember who made himself
A child to play with thee vain, foolish games;
Who taught thee out of books such lessons as
Thy little mind could grasp?

_Hester._ It was thou.

_Roger._ Then, as thou didst grow toward womanhood,
Some fifteen springs, thy gentle mother died;
A woman beautiful and pure, as sweetly
Ignorant of all her charms as is
The hyacinth.

_Hester._ Mother! Mother!

_Roger._ Pray God the saints see nothing here on earth:
Or else that in their golden paradise
Some sleepy potion dull their sympathies
With us: for who could look upon this world,
And see mankind divested of the lies
That make our comeliness; or, with an eye undimmed,
Behold the brutal tragedies of life;
And yet find happiness or peace in Heaven?
Hell's flames would reach unto the tree of life
Itself and singe thy mother's heart, if she
Could see that scarlet letter on thy breast.

[_Hester covers her face and moans._]

Great God! what thread of continuity
Doth string the whirling incidents of life?
This woman was that maid whose purity
Excelled imagination's greatest reach;
Whose happiness sang ever like the lark
Arising from the earth to soar in Heaven!
And now behold her dyed in scarlet sin,
Branded with infamy, and moaning here
In deepest anguish!
Nay, come; let out thy grief in linked words,